


Need to Be

by legion



Category: Numb3rs
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-12
Updated: 2012-11-12
Packaged: 2017-11-18 11:49:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/560747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/legion/pseuds/legion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlie saves Don's life in an unexpected shoot-out, giving rise to ephipanies for both of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Need to Be

**Author's Note:**

> I often write small mood pieces like this to get a feel for characters before working on more major pieces. This was done just after season four.

Don never had a single clue as to why he decided the minute he saw the four kids enter the restaurant that they were trouble. It couldn't have been the way they were dressed. During prom season young men in tuxes patronizing upscale family establishments were hardly a rarity. Nor could he say it was something in their expression or body language. Megan and the rest of the team were as observant as he was, and none of them tagged the teens as a problem.

All Don could say for certain was that when they reached as one for the inside of their jackets, he pushed Charlie down to the floor behind the chest-high partition separating the dining floor into four parts and drew his sidearm. Even as he shouted, "FBI - Freeze!" Colby wrapped both arms around the waist of their waitress and pulled her out of line of fire. Both David and Megan spun to face the same direction as Don, guns drawn. At almost the same instant a flood of girls in prom dresses with their tuxedoed escorts came through the door, giving perfect cover for the gunmen for that critical moment they needed to open fire with automatic weapons.

Their first victims were in the crowd around them, which told Don all too clearly that the young men didn't intend to survive the coming gunfight. That didn't stop him from ordering them to put down their weapons, standing tall and clear of the partition to make an obvious target of himself. Better him than more of the kids scattering in all directions with screams and blood streaming in their wake. To his shock, the shooters began laughing raucously, spraying bullets randomly into the room.

Procedure followed as far as he was concerned, Don focused on the one closest to him. "I've got blondie. Megan, his right. David, left."

Holding off until the moment was right, the shot was right, was the hardest thing Don had done in a long, long while. But too many people were between him and the gunmen, running for cover or trying to escape either through the kitchen or the exit behind him. He was not going to dishonor those already wounded or dead by bringing down innocents with 'friendly' fire.

His patience paid off. Blondie pivoted toward him, giving him a clear view of his face and Don pulled the trigger. The kid went down, but Don kept him in his sights until he was sure he wasn't going to get back up. A split second after he shot, he heard two more from either side of him, then two more while he targeted the fourth gunman, having unconsciously tracked him all along. Either unaware or uncaring that his buddies were down, the last shooter whooped joyously and took out another gun, firing both weapons gunslinger style as he walked toward Don and his team, as if daring them to stop him.

Colby took him up on it, shooting from the floor behind the edge of the partition, the waitress squashed between him and it. More stubborn than the others, this gunman stumbled, fell to one knee, got back up, and took two more steps before Colby hit him again, all the while pumping bullets at anyone he could see. His last volley was accompanied with a defiant shout that made no sense to Don, but apparently gave him great satisfaction, if the grin on his face was anything to go by.

All in all, the firefight lasted less than a minute, then the odd, heavy silence of 'after' fell, leaving Don's ears ringing with more than the echoes of gunshots. Slowly, he lowered his arm and reached for his cell phone to call it in, gaze flitting over the fallen to determine who to help first.

Charlie shouted his name, memory belatedly adding not for the first time in the past few seconds, and Don pivoted, bringing his piece up again, spotting another tux-clad teen taking aim at him. Even as Don realized he wouldn't be able to avoid the round coming his way, Charlie fired, hitting the gunman in the head and knocking him backwards to the ground.

Silence resumed, somehow weightier than before, holding everyone in place for a heartbeat.

Idiotically, the only thing Don could think was, "Thank God I taught Charlie how to shoot."

Moving first, Charlie lowered the pistol as if it weighed more than he did. It dipped weirdly in his grip, and Don darted to take it from him before it could fall from nerveless fingers. "I've got it."

"He was going to kill you," Charlie said mechanically, eyes glazing over and fixing on a distant spot. "His stance, the angle of the barrel, the probable trajectory of the bullets - he would have hit all of you before you even knew he was there."

"It's my backup piece," Colby said coming up next to them. "From my ankle holster. He was right at my feet, but I didn't feel him take it."

Absently giving it back to him, Don cupped Charlie's shoulders in his palms. "You saw him come in? Charlie? Charlie?"

Swaying in place, Charlie said distantly, with an emptiness under his words that was worse than the room's silence had been, "Given that doorway is significantly smaller than the main entrance, and his noticeable attentiveness to his surroundings as he stepped across the threshold, his goal was most likely to prevent any escape from that avenue. I believe the presence of answering gunfire may have startled him into hesitating, perhaps consider retreat as an option, especially as it would have been imminently clear that there likely were no longer any survivors from the primary group."

Feeling the minute tremors in the muscles under his hands, Don reeled Charlie in closer with tiny, careful increments. "Yeah, that makes sense."

Turning his head, he said to Colby, "Police are probably already on the way; tell Megan to deal with them. You and David do what you can with triage and securing the scene."

"Don...." Colby began hesitantly.

"Look, I see three seriously competent FBI agents here. Charlie's only got one big brother, you know?"

Staring at where Charlie had come to rest, face buried in Don's shoulder, fists between them, full of Don's jacket, Colby said, "I can get behind that." He ventured a gentle pat to Charlie's back. "More than one way to bleed, too. Thank you, Charlie." Not waiting for a response, he took off, already intent on the nearest person calling for help.

Sensing rather than actually feeling the flinch from the touch and words, Don wrapped his arms around Charlie and held onto him tightly. That seemed to be a cue of some sort; Charlie sagged, his trembling turning into full-blown shakes as his legs gave out. Don went down with him, controlling the fall so that they landed on their knees, hip to hip, Charlie half-leaning across Don's lap. For some reason Don didn't expect him to cry, but he did gasp for air as if it were in short supply.

He also guessed that Charlie was nowhere near able to talk, or really even to listen, so he rubbed small circles up and down Charlie's spine, resting his chin on top of Charlie's curls. Weirdly, though chaos churned and clamored around them, Don was content to sit it out in the small pool of quiet the two of them made. While he was aware of the rush of cops into the place, then, minutes later the EMT's, for once he was not compelled to be in the middle of the action.

Not inclined to talk himself, Don shook his head at Megan to warn her off, and, to his surprise, he saw her running interference for them a little later, keeping away the police. Not too long after that, David zipped by, pointing out the newsmen setting up on the other side of the yellow tape closing off the smaller restaurant doorway. Don gave him a lift of the chin to show he understood as David casually tipped over the closest table to block any outside view.

It made him consider the media, though, and he took out his cell phone, whispering, "Need to call Dad so he won't panic; he knows we're here celebrating the court win."

Charlie swallowed noisily, but nodded into Don's chest.

Before he could speak, his dad said, "Don! Are you in the middle of that mess at Longistino's?"

"We're not hurt," Don assured him quickly. "Wish I could say the same about the rest of the people here. What's the news saying?"

"Right now, not much. Shots fired, nobody knows by who or how many are injured, the usual, and how sad is it that I can say that and people know exactly what I mean?" Alan sighed. "What can you tell me?"

Obeying the tug from Charlie, Don said, "To get down here as fast as you can. I'll have one of the guys meet you at the police line and bring you in."

Sharply, Alan said, "You said you weren't hurt."

"Not a mark on either of us, I swear." Don tucked his head down so that his cheek was resting against Charlie's. "Look, we need to get Charlie out before the media sharks discover the famous author and mathematician, Dr. Charles Eppes, is on the premises, let alone involved in the gun battle. He had to cover my back, Dad, and he's not taking it well, not that I can blame him. An agent puts on the badge, he thinks about the day he has to use lethal force. I'm pretty sure the possibility never crossed Charlie's mind."

"I'm going to want details," Alan said, and Don could tell by the sounds in the background that his dad was gathering up his keys and jacket, readying to leave. "One thing I know already, and you be sure Charlie hears me say this, is that I have no doubt you did your best to protect him in a time and place where neither of you could have been expecting trouble, and then he returned the favor. You hear me, Charlie? You took care of your brother, and that's what matters most to me."

When Charlie nodded, Don said, "He heard you loud and clear. See you soon."

"Thank God Don taught him how to shoot," Alan muttered to himself, barely loud enough for Don to pick it up.

Reluctantly smiling, sort of, Don put away the phone and went back to taking care of his brother, surprising himself by rocking them both the tiniest bit as if Charlie were still little and had come to him for a hug after a tumble. //When exactly did he stop doing that?// Don wondered suddenly. //And why? Okay so maybe you get to an age where you want to be the tough guy and pretend it doesn't hurt, but that's when you go for bragging rights. Look what I did. Mom's going to have a cow because she told me a thousand times not to slide for home with my arms on the ground.

//When was the last time I held him, gave him a safe place to put himself back together after being hurt?// Try as he might, Don couldn't think a single occasion past Charlie's third birthday, though to his relief he didn't remember ever telling him to deal, either. It bothered him that at some point that he hadn't even noticed that Charlie stopped coming to him for comfort. It had gotten to be habit for Charlie to be self-contained and for Don to expect him to be.

"That's just plain wrong," Don said without thinking.

Shifting his weight away, though he left his face hidden against Don, Charlie began a retreat that Don didn't want in any way, shape or form. Stubbornly holding him closer, he added, "Please tell me you don't think you just have to suck it up, that you think that's what I want."

"You told me once that sometimes there's no choice, but if it hurts, it hurts," Charlie whispered so softly Don had to strain to hear him.

"Good, good. That's what I believe, but, you know, you don't always say things like that out loud, like you expect the people you love to read your mind or something." Don managed a realistic chuckle, shocked that it was a bit watery around the edges.

Relaxing against him, hands finally releasing their grip so that he could hug back, Charlie said, "Remember when you convinced me to play golf with Dad so that he could have a tiny piece of the fatherhood thing with me that raising a genius son cheated him out of? You got cheated too, Donnie. You never had the chance to be the big brother you wanted to be, that maybe you even needed to be. Maybe that's why things weren't so good between us back then. You'd see other kids with their little brothers or sisters and wonder on some level why we didn't have that dynamic."

Trying to be honest with both himself and Charlie, Don said slowly, "Maybe. It's hard to look back and see clearly because part of being a kid is being relentlessly stuck in your own viewpoint. I can tell you that I'm glad you started working with me because it's given me a chance to understand, even appreciate a bit, the way you think."

Because it was time, because it had to be said, he added, "I am so, so sorry that it led to you pulling that trigger."

"I'm not." Charlie clumsily nuzzled into Don's neck. "I mean, I'm sorry I had to... had to stop him the way I did. But if I hadn't worked with you, I wouldn't have known Colby had that backup, or understood that it was a suicide attack and how to respond to it. I would have sat there, too confused to do anything, and you and Megan and David and Colby would all be injured or worse, and more people would have been shot."

"As it is, we were pretty lucky with that," Megan said, squatting down next to them. "Twenty-seven wounded so far, but no fatalities, though a couple aren't out of the woods yet." Tucking a few of Charlie's curls behind his ears for him, she asked gently, "Are you ready to give a statement to the police? For the moment they're running things, but I don't think they're going to question your version of events. The evidence is pretty straight-forward."

With a soft sigh into Don's collar, Charlie gradually withdrew from his refuge, head hanging and hands knotting into Don's jacket again. "Dad'll be here soon, and I'd like to leave with him if I could."

"I don't see a problem with that." Megan looked past them to the door, frowned, and shifted so that she was between them and it.

Reading her concern, Don said as he stood, taking Charlie with him, "Stay in front of me, buddy, just like you are. That way a news camera can't get an angle on you."

"Camera angles...." Charlie went still, taking on what Don thought of as his 'math in overdrive' expression.

Recognizing it as well, Megan waited expectantly while Charlie studied the restaurant, the location of the fallen teens and the evidence of their destruction. "How many rounds in how many seconds? And only twenty-seven casualties?" he muttered.

"You're always saying more data is better," Colby offered, coming up with David to add their bulk to the news video blockade. "Does it help to know that they were carrying multiple magazines and weapons, not all of them automatics?"

Megan put in, "It's hard to say without more information, but the original intent may have been to subdue the crowd, then finish them before facing off with the police or shooting themselves. Body count is usually the main goal for this type of attack as a perverse way of standing out from other rage killers."

"There's more here than that," Charlie murmured, pointing. "See how high a number of the shots were? There and there. Well over the heads of most people. Why not at chest height, where they'd hit more victims?"

Seeing his point, Don said, "And why not move deeper into the room, split up to cover more area?"

Charlie walked slowly toward the main entrance, twisting to look in various directions. "Always toward the front, never looking behind or standing back-to-back to fire in as many directions as possible," he said, miming holding a gun again. His eyes cleared, focusing intently on Don. "Like they were posing for a camera. Don, there was someone in the restaurant who knew what was going to happen, or, at the very least, had been told by the shooters that it would be worth their while to bring a video camera here."

Taking him at his word, Don snapped at Megan, "Have any of the witnesses been released yet?"

Before he could say more, David and Colby trotted away, David calling over his shoulder, "Looking for movie maker wannabees as we speak." Megan shot him a grin and headed for where the police were clustered, comparing notes.

Despite it all, Don chuckled, but quickly sobered. "My team listens to you like you're the one with the rank. Now, you see, that's the other side of the equation - one I hadn't looked at hard enough. Maybe Dad and I didn't get to do the regular stuff with you, but then, you didn't get to do it either. The kind of stuff that you build good memories, good connections on, like you have with Megan and the others, so you could be the brother you needed to be, too."

With the shy, 'too pleased to know what to say' smile Don remembered from his baby brother, Charlie said, "So we're working on it now, in our own unique Eppes way."

Seeing a plain-clothes police detective striding toward them, mouth set in a grimly determined line, Don draped an arm over Charlie's shoulders. "Hey, as long as it works, right?"

"Statistically speaking, success is an inevitable mathematical probability - after repeated attempts," Charlie shot back.

Taking in the detective's demeanor as he approached, Charlie straightened, almost visibly donning his professorial authority, clearly ready to defend himself. When the man was close enough, he took the initiative and stepped forward, hand out to introduce himself.

"You go get 'em, Charlie," Don said softly.

Glancing back over his shoulder, Charlie said, "Thank God you taught me to shoot."


End file.
